


Heartline Driver, Front Seat Lover

by RodeoQueen



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Inspired by Poetry, Other, References To Richard Silken’s Poem “You Are Jeff, Yearning, reader is gender-neutral, road trip but with yearning, slow-burn, ” Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodeoQueen/pseuds/RodeoQueen
Summary: At the end of a road trip begins a new path for you and Nico. But first, you have to turn on the ignition.
Relationships: Nico (Devil May Cry)/Original Character(s), Nico (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Heartline Driver, Front Seat Lover

**Author's Note:**

> _exponentialchaos Requested:_
> 
> _Hi! For the 300 Lone Rangers event, perhaps I could request Nico and best friend Reader (G/N) being on a roadtrip in her very cool van and then reader just confesses? I don't see much love for her as there should be! Nico's amazing. ❤❤❤ And so are you, Rodeo. Congratulations on reaching this milestone. I've heard you're a bit burned out.. hope you're doing alright.🌟_
> 
> _Howdy,_
> 
> _Due to personal cowboy experiences, I think I’m more than qualified to write this. And thank you for the congratulations. And yes, I’m a bit burned out._
> 
> _That’s Alright,_
> 
> _Rodeo_

You’re sitting in a van with a gorgeous girl. And you don’t know how to tell her that you love her, as she drives miles around your mind. You don’t know how to tell her that every time she touches your skin, your heart internally hits a speed bump, jumping to your throat and catching at the words you want to say. 

It feels like a crime to sit here next to her, an imposter of who you want to be to her. A crime to exist in her space, as her passenger, as her best friend. Are you lying to her? Or are you keeping yourself safe from charging yourself as an unrequited lover? 

Are you a fraud? Do you want to turn yourself in? Red handcuffs upon your soul, desires arrested? 

The road trip ended, and you are going to go home. And maybe once again, you will smother your love with your pillow and sleep with your yearnings as your sole company. 

Each raucous turn she makes, cutting corners of streets and screeching wheels, you feel your bravery accelerate past your threshold and fall just short. Each turn, you want to tell her. Each turn, you don’t. Nerves shot, you find yourself staring at her profile, freckled like the galaxy. 

She’s your fucking world and she is the stars, the ozone, and the space between that too. And you think that if you tell her, you’ll explode like the sun in the nearby future, a brilliant and devastating cascade of events. And everything will turn dark. 

How long do you want to wait for that to happen?

How long do you keep having to keep burning? 

You’re on the empty country road, and it is pitch black except for the van’s lights and the dinky metal street signs illuminating from said lights. 

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, elbowing you. You laugh and shift away from her, shrugging. 

“A lot.” She snorts, facing you with a smirk. 

“Thinking about a lot of h’wat?” She asks, pronouncing that last word in a way that always makes you giggle. It’s an empty sound today, your joy as you lay plagued thinking about what you’re going to say. 

“I think about a lot of things. Y’know. Stuff, things, events, people....” She ah’s in understanding. 

“Thinking bout me?” She teases. The joke flies over your head, and you answer truthfully. 

“Always.” 

“Of course you do.” She drawls. 

Your heart does the thing where it explodes again. A pot that pops the lid off, and then begrudgingly allows itself to be contained. 

You decide you don’t want to contain how you’ve been feeling tonight. 

“Nico. Can I tell you something?” She lights another cigarette while braking at the golden stoplight. 

“Mhm. Tell me anything.” She ignites a yellow flame by herself, and the sparks smolder quickly to that familiar smell of smoke. 

Your heart says green when the lights turn red. 

“I love you.” 

The lights turn green, yet your heart is stopped. 

“I mean, I love you too,” Nico says as a-matter-of-factly. 

“No. Not as best friends. I-I love you like, I love you, Nico.” You don’t know how to make it make sense if she doesn’t feel the same. 

“I know what you mean.”

She’s staring off into the road, driving a straight line back home. And you think you just sent yourself into a shallow grave, a ditch. 

She sighs, and you focus on the familiar pavement back to your place. 

You feel sick. You feel lightheaded. And the smoke from her cigarette is the funeral incense to the last time you can ever sit here again without feeling like you’ve been caught with an awful secret. 

Or maybe you’ve always felt like this, and it’s finally eating you alive. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I get it. You probably don’t feel the same. If we can stay best friends after this, I mean-”

“I don’t want to be best friends after this.” You look at her and her glasses reflect your heartbreak. 

But she’s smiling. 

She shakes her head, the apples of her cheeks that earthy red color. She’s blushing. 

“I love you too.” She smudges her lit cancer stick into an ashtray haphazardly placed in the cupholder.

She takes your hand into hers and squeezes it. With a choked out sigh, you wipe nervous tears away. You laugh and you sob, and she is there in your duality. 

“You ain’t gotta cry about it.” 

“But it’s you.” 

“I ain’t gonna let you cry about lil old me.” She nudges you again. 

The two of you finally make it home, a journey of a lifetime having been taken. 

“You wanna go out?” Nico asks. 

You let out a breath of relief as if the heavy smoke within your own lungs has finally left you in the form of a “yes.”

“Then I guess we’re going out.” She cheekily says. You can’t stop looking at her. 

You’ve always been able to sit in the silence with Nico, as her best friend for all these years. And this is the first time, it’s different. It’s the same and it’s different. 

You’re still you, and she’s still who she is. And yet, you’re both new to each other. New to learning that you both burn for each other like the sparks from her tools.

And yet, it feels like this ambiance is still the same as it used to be. The air around the two of you has relatively shifted, the same in a different place. 

Fuck thinking about it too hard. You’re living it. And it is euphoria.

Who in their right mind wants to stop and think about the best thing that’s currently happening to them?

You’re crazy, she’s crazy, you’re both crazy. But the two of you have half the mind to at least know that. 

You’re in a van with a gorgeous girl. The radio’s playing static but you can’t hear it. You feel it. 

The sun has exploded, and the galaxy takes you into her arms, and you are accepted as your core, your soul, is cracked open and exposed. 

You’re in a van with a gorgeous girl, and there’s no one and there’s everyone to watch the universe create a new solar system in your shared embrace. 

You kiss her where she sits, and she wraps her arms around you.

Nicoletta Goldstein is organized chaos and she is kissing you, this person of tumultuous methodology.

She tastes like nicotine cinders, sweet tea, and warmth. 

You’re in your girlfriend’s van and you’ve forever made yourself a passenger in her life. 

To Nico, you’ve been calling shotgun to her heart since the day she first saw you. 

And tonight, the stars are twice as many. 


End file.
